


Rooftop Conversations

by KDblack



Series: In Which Clovis and Cath Secretly Want to Make Out (or something) [3]
Category: Evil FTW - Selan Pike
Genre: Gen, Who even knows, is this gen or pre-slash, when in doubt blame aliens, white collar crime sucks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 19:08:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14243844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KDblack/pseuds/KDblack
Summary: Tynan got all the do-gooder genes in the family. Cath's just a lighter shade of bad. But then again, so is Clovis.





	Rooftop Conversations

Superheroing is a lot less awesome than it looks on TV. Oh, the fighting is awesome, and chasing villains is always a rush, and having free reign to electrocute anyone who resists arrest? Priceless. But there are only so many supervillains in the city, and they need like a week of prep time just to get out of bed, much less pull off an actual crime. Sure, there's muggers and thieves and embezzlers and corruption, but that's boring, especially embezzling and corruption. There's so many rules to follow for white collar crime investigations. No punching, no outright threats, no 'accidentally' pumping 200 volts into uncooperative suspects. It's just the worst.

On the upside, he can now ride fancy metal disks through the city at top speed without fear of having the cops called on him, which – on most days – makes the whole thing almost worth it. Today, though... today's been a bad one. Cath hardly even notices the blur of the crowd as he rushes overhead. He's spent all week assisting with the case against a corporate type who reminds him entirely too much of Dalix. No missing, presumed-dead brother, and probably no wold domination attempts, but the sheer amount of cash that's gone missing from that guy's charitable construction projects is horrifying. Also, he has this awful smile that makes Cath feel like a dumb teenager again, trying to decide if he could live with himself after selling Tavvy out. He feels greasy just thinking about it.

And the problem with trying to outrun grease is that it doesn't work. Cath stops over the highway, keeping an eye out for crashes, and does his best to think the matter over logically. It's slow going. Rational self-examination has never been his strong suit. He could call Tynan, but Tynan's been holding a massive grudge ever since eating the mailbox french toast led to him getting his stomach pumped. Cath would apologize if he thought it would help, but it wouldn't. Tynan knows him too well. Growing up side by side left him with a spooky level of insight into the way Cath's brain works, and he knows that Cath's never quite wrapped his head around the concept of regret. Words are just words, and intent's irrelevant when everyone's a selfish asshole on the inside. Actions are what matter.

So, since trying to outrace his thoughts hasn't worked, it's time to try another tactic. Cath reaches for the magnetic fields underneath him and shoots into the sky. There's a bit of a gasp from below, but it sounds awed rather than alarmed, so Cath feels justified in ignoring it. He goes up, up, bending the magnetic fields around him to his will, until he's level with the nearest skyscrapers. Then he stops. Not because he's hit his limit or anything – Tynan can go higher than this, so Cath probably can too, if he practices – but because a flicker of black has caught his attention. There's someone standing on the closest building's roof, monochrome suit stark against steel grey, a plume of smoke wafting gently upwards.

Looks like he's not the only one who thought altitude might help him think.

Cath slides his hands into his pockets and glides over, grinning. God, he loves these things. Better than a utility belt any day.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

Clovis gives him a flat look and takes another drag on his cigarette. 

“Fordon. Finished your investigation already?”

They don't work together anymore, so how Clovis always knows what he's supposed to be doing, Cath isn't sure. He's inclined to blame aliens. It's kind of amazing how many disasters, problems, and mild inconveniences can be traced back to extraterrestrial activities.

“Yeah, it's done. Just submitted my final report. Waiting for an arrest warrant.” Cath sighs, rocking back on his disc in a way that would give his mother a heart attack, magnetic shoes or no. Even with all the evidence he's turned up, the warrant will be a few days coming. For some reason, people are a lot more leery about sending superpowered individuals against criminals who don't wear cloaks or spandex. “No one told me there was so much paperwork involved in crime-fighting when I joined up.”

“Would you have done it if we had?” Clovis asks.

Nope. Tynan got all the do-gooder genes in the family. Cath's just a lighter shade of bad. But then again, so is Clovis.

“Hey, hey, what's with this 'we?' You used to terrorize the establishment too, remember?” He nudges the disc forward until he's close enough to touch his former co-worker, current bane of his existence – until Selan realizes she hospitalized the wrong electric blond, anyway – and then does so. Well, tries. Clovis dodges.

“And now I work for it,” he says, cigarette drooping in his mouth. “As do you, you rebel.”

“How am I the rebel when you're the one smoking on the roof?” Cath counters. “You're gonna get lung cancer and die. I'll dance at your funeral.”

Clovis tilts his head, considering. “Make it tasteful. If you put on dubstep, I'll crawl out of hell to kick your ass.”

“Would I do that?” 

Cath is self-aware enough to know that the huge grin he's wearing doesn't exactly scream 'wounded innocence', but he's not masochistic enough to try hiding it. Some smirks just can't be fought down or suppressed. Besides, this is the first time today he's managed an actual smile.

“Yes,” his favourite stuffed suit says without hesitation. That might be hurtful, if Cath had feelings.

“Well, that settles it, then!” Cath surges forward, hopping off his disc and into the agent's personal space. He kicks the metal up on the dismount, sticking it to his belt with a crackle of electricity, and slings an arm around Clovis's shoulder, pressing down with all his might. The older man may have a few inches, and if he's honest, _a lot_ of muscle on him, but Cath can turn anybody into an armrest. It's a gift. “It's a date.”

Clovis doesn't flinch at the phrasing, which... boo. He does struggle a little, but he's been caught unprepared, and Cath has used this technique on way scarier people. All his secret agent skills are useless. It's a total victory until the air around Clovis twists, filling with telltale monochrome rectangles.

“Oh, hell no.” Cath tries to retreat, but it's too late. He's caught. And a second later, he's floating in a cloud of slim black shapes, holding on to Clovis's shoulder for dear life. “This is cheating!”

His nemesis dares to smirk at him as he pries Cath's fingers free. “Stop clinging. I'm not going to throw you.”

“I could totally catch myself if you did,” Cath informs him, letting go with an indignant huff. He was actually more worried about being floated into the atmosphere. “And I'd zap you before I got out of range. Bet lightning travels way faster than you can toss me.”

Clovis gives the drop in front of them a speculative look, then shakes his head. “Nah. You're not worth the trouble.”

“Excuse you, I'm worth everything.”

The older man breathes out a plume of smoke, another flurry of gravity-altering rectangles ferrying it out of the way. “Worth spending a cigarette break with, at least.”

That... means a lot, actually. Too much. Cath yawns to delay the onset of emotions, kicking out his feet and narrowly missing Clovis's head. He leans back in the cradle of antigravity, letting the tension drain out of him slowly.

“I'm gonna take a nap. Wake me up before you go anywhere.” He let his eyes slide shut, then cracks one back open. “You pull me into another door frame, I sneak into your shitty apartment and destroy everything you own. I know where you live, Harlan. Don't test me.”

A laugh! An actual laugh! Clovis claps his hand across his mouth, hissing as he burns himself, but it's too late. Cath totally heard it. He's gonna tell everybody they know that Clovis Harlan has a sense of humour.

Right after he wakes up.


End file.
